


Forgive This Fool (For Getting It So Wrong)

by electraDandelion



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bard Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Canon Compliant, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fix-It, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, a glamour for your thoughts?, eventual light smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25994860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electraDandelion/pseuds/electraDandelion
Summary: After everything that happened after that accursed dragon hunt, Geralt knew he had fucked up royally. But after a year of searching high and low, in nearly every tavern and whorehouse across the continent, Jaskier was no where to be found. It seemed the bard was doing a damn good job of giving Geralt his blessing.Worn thin from traveling and the bubbling emotions he had kept hidden for so long, Geralt wasdesperatefor a lead. Foranything. That's when he found a flier for the "Oxenfurt Song Fest". So he turned to the only person he thought could help him finally find his bard.+++“You want me to dowhatnow?!” Yennefer asked hysterically.“You heard what I said…” His voice came out as a low growl; his frustration and embarrassment only growing as Yennefer motioned for him to continue. “I need you… to make me into a bard….”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 140





	Forgive This Fool (For Getting It So Wrong)

“You want me to do _what_ now?!” Yennefer asked hysterically in between cackling laughter. 

The incredulous look on her face told Geralt that she had heard _exactly_ what he had asked. Yennefer even had the audacity to wipe away fake tears as if this whole situation was the most entertaining thing in the world. 

Geralt hadn't known what to expect when asking for help from Yennefer, but he really should have known that she was going to laugh in his face. But she was the only sorceress who, despite their past, might be able to help him actually pull this off… 

“You heard what I said…” His voice came out as a low growl; his frustration and embarrassment only growing as Yennefer motioned for him to continue. “I need you… to make me into a bard….” 

“That’s a good one Geralt — ‘a bard’ —e what are you trying to do, win Jaskier back or something?!” Yennefer only paused for a split second to see the faintest hint of a blush lighting up the deep scowl on Geralt’s face. “Oh my _gods_ you are —“ 

“Yen, _please…”_ He turned imploring, molten amber eyes to meet violet. “I’m desperate. I’ve tried _everything…”_

“Well, I sincerely doubt you’ve tried ‘ _everything’…”_

“Yen I went to the university, no one has seen him since last winter. I tried Novigrad, Vizima, Vergen, even goddamn Posada — I went to every one of his favorite taverns and bars and whorehouses on the entire continent and **no one** has seen or heard from him. I can’t apologize if I can’t fucking **find** him”

A pregnant pause lingered in the air, left behind in the wake of Geralt’s trembling, distraught plea. Violet eyes flickered over Geralt’s haggard form, probably only seeing the extent of his exhaustion now. Red lips formed a contemplative line as Yennefer realized that to Geralt, this really was no laughing matter. 

She, of course, knew vaguely what had happened after that gods-forsaken dragon hunt. How the witcher had apparently been out to ruin the life of everyone around him in a tantrum of self pity. Yennefer could tell from the blessed silence which thrummed with Geralt’s own guilt which hung around him, that the bard was no longer traveling with the witcher. 

A lot had happened since then, but the sorceress had not forgotten how the witcher had wronged her, and definitely had not fully forgiven him. But she was not heartless; especially towards the bard, who, if Geralt’s worries were founded, might need their help… So she remained silent and urged him on with a gentle look to indicate that she was listening seriously. 

“Every time I hear a rumor that he’s somewhere close… as soon as I get within a town or two, he just disappears again. Without a trace…” 

Geralt only paused his ever-softening words when he felt a surprisingly gentle hand lay on his shoulder. He looked up to see genuine sympathy on Yennefer’s face; she also looked incredibly uncomfortable in the role of ‘comforting friend’, but it was certainly a step up from laughing at his ridiculous plan. 

“I even tried Lettenhove…” he continued, not failing to notice the slight look of shock on Yennefer’s face. “I know it was a stretch, but I was in the area for a contract and I had no other leads… I figured maybe they had at least heard _something…”_

Yen waited for Geralt to continue, but as she saw him grit his teeth and more frustration begin to grow on his face, she knew he probably didn’t even realize he wasn’t saying all the things he was thinking. As he was apt to do. 

“And…?” She encouraged lightly. 

“It was a shithole. Seriously, I can see why Jaskier hated that place so much. But it was nothing compared to his family.” Geralt grit his teeth and brushed a hand through his hair in frustration at the memory. “I found his bastard of a father pretending to be king over his shitty, over-harvested lands… I held my tongue and my fists because I knew I had to follow court decorum… so, I asked if he had heard any news of his son Julian.” 

He slumped his shoulders over and let out an aggressive hiss of breath as he clenched a trembling fist. 

“He told me his son died 30 years ago.” 

“Geralt—“

“I know. I _know_ he was lying, that is obviously impossible. But what if —“ 

Yennefer cut off that train of thought with a quick shake of her head. “He’s a bitter old man who is mad he couldn’t control his son. And he’s wrong, Geralt. Jaskier is fine. We will find him.” 

Geralt looked up to see understanding written across Yennefer’s face, and he swore he could almost see… empathy flooding her eyes as she squeezed his shoulder. 

The sorceress watched as Geralt let his body untense and slump forward, if only slightly. His exhaustion and all-encompassing desperation becoming more evident with each passing moment. He seriously looked rough, the dark circles which shadowed his sunken eyes almost mimicked the effects of his witcher potions with how they darkened his features. Geralt’s pallor had a nearly sallow tinge to it that she had only seen once before — when he was so desperate for sleep he turned to a _djinn_ for help. 

Now, he sought her out instead; the same sorceress he bound himself to nonconsensually, and who had still not forgiven him for that slight. Yennefer didn’t know which scenario was more insane.

“Well, why don’t you enlighten me to this plan of yours, Geralt?” Yennefer started as she sat back up straight, adorning her signature calculating air again. “I assume you do have one, or at least something more substantial than wandering the continent and wailing about your bard to any tavern audience that will listen…”

Geralt looked down and to the side with a sigh before rummaging in a pocket in his armor underneath his chest plate. He withdrew a slightly crumpled flier and presented it in the direction of Yennefer, knowing her curiosity would finish the job for him.

“The Oxenfurt Song Fest…?” Yennefer read aloud, slowly putting together Geralt’s unspoken plan in her head. “How can you be sure that Jaskier will —”

“He will.” Geralt finally looked up at the sorceress, a conviction written so plainly across his face that he almost seemed offended that Yennefer would question him. “If… If he is _alive_ … he will be there. He would **never** miss it.”

A neatly kept eyebrow raised in question, knowing there was a story behind those words. Yennefer didn’t waste time waiting for Geralt to find his words, and instead released a small amount of chaos to sort through the witcher’s thoughts. Whether from his exhaustion or his acceptance that he couldn’t give the story justice, he only barely fought against her prodding magic. 

+

When Julian Alfred Pankratz ran away from home, the Oxenfurt Song Fest was where he found new life. It was where Jaskier the bard was born. It was his _chance_.

The song fest was an annual competition, with renown that spread far across the continent. All the greatest musicians came from all around to fight and one-up each other in many categories... but the ballad competition came with the largest prize purse: a full tuition scholarship to Oxenfurt University. 

At just age 16, with nothing more than the finery he pilfered from his family’s estate, his voice and the lute on his back, Julian signed up under a new name with nothing to lose.

His poetry brought the audience to tears, but his voice and his ease of performance caught the attention of the adjudicators and faculty. Despite not being the most “refined” of the entries by any means... He won.

Julian might not have had years of training or conservatory experience, but ballads are a work of heart — which the young bard had in spades. 

That win changed Julian’s life forever. No longer was he a disappointment of a son who would never ‘live up to his potential’. That day, he became Jaskier — a troubadour with only one goal in mind — to change the world with his music. Now as a student of the university, with training in the seven liberal arts, he had the tools to do just that. 

Years and years later, whether Jaskier was traveling with Geralt and regaling the masses with his deeds, or trailing after some countess… he always made time to attend the festival. Some years, he would enter if he felt like he had composed something fresh and inspired enough to top his last winning entry. Others, he would take part as a judge. Some years he would even enter some of the smaller events, if only to add to his long list of titles and achievements which he had earned through his own hard work, talent and persistence. 

For as long as Geralt had known Jaskier, and he assumed for far longer still, Jaskier had never _once_ missed the Oxenfurt Song Fest. Not for injury, not for circumstance, not for weather — and Geralt had been alongside a high strung bard who was worried about not arriving in time far too many times to believe anything else. 

If there was _any_ place Geralt could finally find his bard, and hopefully, make him listen… it was there.

+

After a long pause of the sorceress trying to determine whether or not the witcher had ended his story, and contemplating the plan, Yennefer finally spoke. 

“While I do agree that this is probably our best chance of finding him, you do realize this is a _ballad_ competition, right? Even if I “made you a bard”, my magic and a glamour can only do so much. I can enchant something to give you the ability to play an instrument, I can make you look human, I could even give you back your pre-trials voice… But I can’t give you a winning ballad, Geralt.”

“It’s not about winning, Yen.”

“ _Still_. Without a song, I don’t think they will even let you near the sign up sheet… and I don’t have a musical bone in my body, so I can’t help you there.”

“There’s no need.”

The sorceress’s curiosity was piqued as Geralt once again sorted through his pockets before retrieving a small, leather-bound journal. Not nearly as worn out as the similar looking books she had seen Jaskier travel with, but it was not new by any stretch of the imagination. 

Geralt eyed the book in his hands reverently for an almost unhealthy length of time, probably debating whether it was worth it to let his ex see what was written inside, before thumbing through it to find the page he wanted. He took in a slight breath, before thrusting the journal into Yennefer’s space. There was an almost flush across the tops of Geralt’s cheeks that betrayed his embarrassment, but he still didn’t hesitate. 

Yennefer instinctively took the book, knowing it would give her far more insight than whatever Geralt could say. It only took a few seconds for her to realize what Geralt had handed her, so she fervently read the shaky, handwritten lines on the paper.

“Geralt, this is —” She started, looking up at the witcher with impossibly wide eyes, seeing him in an entirely different light thanks to those emotions he managed to write so explicitly in song.

“I know.” Geralt interrupted with a small nod. “I need him to know. And I don’t think there is any other way he will actually _listen_ to me…”

Yennefer pondered the new information, the plan, and what she knew of the missing bard for a long while before finally letting a small but comfortable smile tilt up her painted lips.

“Okay.”

Geralt didn’t respond, only looking up at Yennefer with a blazing hope in those forlorn eyes. 

“You _will_ owe me, and I still haven’t forgiven you, Geralt. But, I will help you.” Yennefer plainly stated, a little mirth creeping into her voice as she turned to approach a vanity dresser to search for a proper vessel.

Once palming a large silver ring, she turned back to Geralt with a glint in her eye that came whenever she was faced with an entertaining challenge. She sauntered back across the room and dropped the amber-inlaid signet ring into Geralt’s palm. 

“Let’s make you a bard.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter for more Witcher shenanigans at [@ElectraInTheAir](https://twitter.com/ElectraInTheAir)!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this first chapter, I am looking forward to sharing the rest of this fic with you all! Thank you for reading, and for any and all comments/kudos/subs <3


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